As we all know, the world is divided in cat lovers and cat haters.
So there are people we cats like and those we stay away from.
We like humans with names like Cat (Stevens) and dislike Snoop Doggy Dog. (Mind you, he mind be a nice guy, but that name! Urgh!).
We like former president Clinton (because of his cat Socks) and dislike the Queen (the Gorky Thing) and Barbara Bush (because of her dog Millie).

Some cats are really loyal to their Providers such as Trixie.
Her Provider, the third Earl of Southampton, was imprisoned for some stupid human business into the Tower of London.
Trixie decided to keep him company for the duration of his imprisonment (1601-1603). He claimed that she (Trixie that is, not the monarch who put him there) descended to his cell via the chimney, which of course, no cat in its right mind would ever do. So we can safely assume that the Earl’s wife smuggled her into the prison cell.
I informed my Provider that she shouldn’t expect anything like this from my side. I also think that a cell cannot really hold me – I am a 20lbs cat you know and I need my Personal Space (got that one from a Wellness Magazine) the size of my ego.

You might have noticed that I am an Intellectual Cat (my Provider’s b-f accused me of executing a Pompous Writing Style – to which I say “affreux, mon cher”) .
I did my research and here is my pick of favorite cat lovers:

Cardinal Richelieu (1585-1642) had dozens of cats and built them a cattery at Versailles. When he died the overseers and cats were provided for. Now that’s what I call a Good Bloke, although he did some weird things (like burning witches – see my pervious blog).
His secret was, that he had the soul of a cat. One of his famous quotes: “I was excellent. Everybody loved me. I love myself, and I like bums.” You see?

Dr. Samuel Johnson, the compiler of the first dictionary, had a pet cat named Hodge whom Johnson fed oysters and other luxurious treats. Now that’s a great Provider for you! I like smoked salmon and my friend Ariel truffles. Our Providers don’t give them to us…. should we write to the UN about that?

Sir Winston Churchill (1874-1965) enjoyed eating with his ginger kitten, Jock. Churchill often sent servants to find Jock and refused to start eating until his cat was present at the table. If only I could train my Provider to do the same…

St. Agatha (d. 251) is still known as Santo Gato (Saint Cat) in parts France. She is said to appear in the form of a cat on her day, February 5, to punish women who have angered her.
My Provider wholly approves of this. Whatever.

St. Ives (1035 - 1115) is the patron saint of lawyers and appears in portraits with a cat by his side, and is sometimes depicted as a cat. Since my Provider is also a lawyer, I wonder if she will turn into a cat? I hope not, I need her human thumbs to open cat food boxes and clean my cat litter box. Besides, who needs the competition?

Cat haters are often dictators (Hitler, Saddam Hussein) and Inferior Authors.
Other bad examples:

Johannes Brahms (1833 - 1897) relaxed by sitting at an open window and attempting to kill neighborhood cats with a bow and arrow. That’s the reason why I don’t listen to his music, which is easy since they don’t play it on MTV and VH1 (my favorite music channels).

Napoleon Bonaparte - Napoleon was once found sweating with fear and lunging wildly with his sword at the tapestry-covered walls. The source of his fear was a small kitten.
Well, we all know he was a nutter and perished on a shitty little island, so enough said. By the way, “Bonaparte” is messed up Latin for “good riddance”, heh, heh.

Noah Webster (1758 - 1843) took 27 years to write the American dictionary, which seems a long time to me, considering he could have copied a lot from Dr. Johnson (the cat lover).
He described us cats as: "deceitful animals and when enraged, extremely spiteful.” This, of course, is something that we have in common with the human race. The difference is, we cats don’t organize ourselves in armies and kill each other. That would be stupid. It interferes with our major pursuits in life: eat & sleep.

Henry III (1551 - 1589) was ferocious when it came to persecuting protestants in France, but the presence of a cat turned him into a coward. He would faint if a cat came near him. You see, it just doesn’t pay to be a bully (unless you are a cat, of course).

Providers deal a lot with something called “religion”. I don’t get that at all. There seems to be several of those religion things going around that are suppose to make life better for Providers (and therefore for us cats). I watch a lot of television and saw the terror attacks that religious fanatics commit – too many for my taste. I would like to state here and now, that blowing up Providers is a Very Bad Thing for cats (and dogs too come to think of it). We end up being Providerless, which means: no food, no water, and no cuddles. Although I am capable of opening the fridge, cupboards, drawers and the water faucet, I don’t shop or prepare my own food. I need my Provider for that. So I need her. Period.
Not only are there different religions, they all seem to have a different take on what animals they like. Dogs are seen as unclean in a lot of religions, which makes sense to me. Only Native Americans seem to like wolves, which shows you that they are really nice people. They like and respect all animals-good for them.
Hindu Indians worship cows, which is also nice, although useless for us cats. As long as it doesn’t interfere with my beef intake, I am fine with that.
The only people that had the good sense to turn us into gods were the ancient Egyptians. OK, we had to hunt and kill some mice, but what the hack. Being divine comes with a lot of perks. Somehow, the current Egyptians are Moslems and are not so fond of us anymore. Pity.
I don’t know a lot about Buddhism (I fell asleep when I was watching the documentary on TV) but I think that they respect all animals in case it is their relative or something. You see, they believe in reincarnation, which is a waste of time in my opinion. Let’s face it, I have it made in this life and don’t want to come back as, say, a Provider. It would mean that I have to work (tiresome) and take care of cat (yeah, sure). No way, Jose.

In the Middle Ages, Catholics burned cats at the stake since they thought we were devil worshippers. Ha! As if we would have the energy to worship anybody apart from ourselves. Those were tough times, so we hooked up with lonely women who pampered us. Guess, what? They burned those as well as witches, which is really very inconsiderate.
Protestants seem to be the best pet owners of them all (as far as I can tell). It would explain why the UK is the ultimate cat country.
Some years ago, I lived in a religious Jewish neighborhood and found out that Friday morning was cooking day. I cleverly went around the neighborhood, entering kitchens, positioning myself next to the cooking person and looking up at her with big pleading eyes. It always worked. They cooed that I am such a nice Jewish cat (well, I had an operation, but I don’t think it was a circumcision unless the vet was really clumsy and took too much off) and would give me all the goodies. I rewarded them with my very loud purr. Worked every time.
So if you want to know my religion: none. But I am tolerant – I will listen to your views as long as you feed me, hug me, and don’t bore me too much.

My Provider walks around on two paws, not four. Needless to say, this looks clumsy.
I also noticed that she doesn’t jump – at least, I never saw her jump on the couch or the table, let alone on cupboards. The little cub from next door does move around on four legs, and even better - he is my size. I like him, he hugs me a lot and calls me “kitty, kitty” before he feeds me. You see, my Provider leaves me regularly for days on end. She goes on something called “trips” and comes back smelling funny. I checked her suitcase out and noticed that there were other smells on it – even that of a cat!
To come back to Providers, it seems that once the cubs grow up, they decide to walk on their hind legs only. It makes them damn tall as well. Not that I don’t use it to my advance: I often entice my Provider to pick me up when we are on the balcony, so I can look down into the street below.
My owner often walks around with bare legs. I like that – I watch a lot of television and saw a really cool thing on National Geographic. My cousin the lion was hunting antelopes and toppled them by sliding sideways against their legs and putting his paws around their ankles.
I think that it’s a great concept, and I am trying to implement it. Compared to my dainty cat paws, the legs of my Provider are big and I must say – stable. No matter how I try, she doesn’t even wobble! Must be all that damn fitness that I am dead set against!
You know, we cats like cuddly Providers – that’s why we prefer women to men. We like to curl up next to soft warm bodies and we also like to knead body parts. My Provider doesn’t have a lot of soft body parts and I blame all that working out. She has a friend, Rachel, who is great. Rachel is quiet (and not moving around a lot like my Provider), smells nice and has nice, soft body parts that she doesn’t mind being kneaded by me. Needless to say, I adore Rachel!
I try to prevent my Provider from going to her fitness center by positioning myself on her sports bag. She just removes me, the rude one. I really don’t understand – bad enough that she has no fur on her body, but why doesn’t she want to be zaftig? As I said before, I watch a lot of television and I think that Anna Nicole Smith is the pinnacle of how a Provider should look (before she went on a diet that is).
Unfortunately, she seems to prefer canines to felines, so my chances of being adopted by her are slim. Not that I don’t like my current Provider, mind you.
But if I can improve my standard of living, why shouldn’t I?
I found out that Providers in the state of New York can leave their worldly possessions to their cats (and dogs too, I think, but who cares about them?
Not me!).
So I informed my Provider that we have to move to Manhattan. Seems that she is open to the idea, since she told me that I could look at birds from a high-rise window in Cathattan. Sound spiffing to me (got the word from a 30s novel in my Provider’s library – I like the sound of it).
I just keep my paws crossed that my Provider doesn’t find a fitness center there….

Let’s talk about food. We cats are picky when it comes to our nosh.
We are not like dogs that love decaying meat of dubious origin.
We like our nibbles and water fresh and pronto. My favorite cat food is the most expensive brand available (heh, heh). In case you wondered, we cats have an instinct to find out how we can break your budget. My Provider has the theory that I can read price tags – I see no reason to inform her otherwise. We also go by the assumption that everything you eat is 1) good for us and 2) should be ours in the first place. So we take you food, play with it and taste it. My Provider likes rabbit food. I try to play with the lettuce leaves, which she keeps preventing. Spoilsport! I am not too crazy about rice and mashed potatoes (boring), cooked vegetables (yawn) or grilled chicken and fish (yuck). I do like her tomato soup, buttermilk and sweet white wine. I don’t understand why she doesn’t allow me to dip my paw in her bowl or glass and lick it off. She eats with metal things, which seems rather clumsy to me. Why not put your mouth close to your food and catch it with your teeth? Or take your paw and scoop it up? I tell you, Providers are weird…. Another weird thing she does is “cooking” – instead of eating the stuff as she buys it, she takes quite some time to work on it. It involves taking it apart (using another metal thing), putting it in a bowl of sorts and placing it in cupboards that she calls “oven” and “microwave”. The stuff only stays there for a limited amount of time, and then she takes it out and eats it. I find this bizarre. You have your prey, right? (At least the stuff she brings in doesn’t move, so it is safe to say it’s dead) So eat it. She also washes her food. She has something with washing – every morning and evening she goes into one of the rooms and stands in the rain. Yes, really, it is this weird room that doesn’t smell nice at all and has a damn uncomfortable floor. She goes in and then it starts to rain. I would run out, but she stays under it and puts stuff on her head fur. She seems to like it. I watch it often – just in case the rain flushes her away. She told me that it is called a “shower” but I watch TV, so I know for a fact that “shower” is “rain”. If you don’t believe me, watch the pretty lady on TV that points at the world map.
My Provider is well organized, so I get my food and fresh water at fixed times. This is a Good Thing because I like to eat; it is a Bad Thing because I have to adjust my schedule to hers, which is too un-cat like to even think about!
Sometimes I am tempted to pinch her credit card and order food online. But I am just too lazy to figure it all out, and I also would have to keep track when it will arrive, which means more infringements on my schedule.
So for now, I leave the status quo as it is…